The Hair Effect
by RainyDays-and-DayDreams
Summary: John tries to cut Sherlock's hair. John fails. Sherlock is angry. Johnlock fluff. Inspired by a picture I saw of Benedict Cumberbatch with short hair. Very mild cursing, but rated T to be safe.


Sherlock growled in frustration. His hair needed to be trimmed, and badly. Normally, he could do it just fine himself, but his arm had been in a cast since his last case, and going to a barber was out of the question. He blew a puff of air into his face, hoping it would blow the hair that was currently in his eyes out of it. It didn't. Exasperated, he flopped onto the couch.

A couple hours later, John returned from his job at the surgery. "Afternoon, Sherlock," he called out. "John?" he heard Sherlock say. "Yes?"

"I require your assistance," Sherlock said. John sighed and walked into the sitting room. John noticed how long Sherlock's hair was becoming, and how it flopped into his eyes. Sherlock looked up pleadingly. "John," he said with complete seriousness, "I need you to cut my hair."

If John had been drinking something at the time, he would've done a spit-take. Instead he just looked at Sherlock incredulously. "I- Why don't you just go to a barber?" he asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Because, John, most barbers are idiots. Now go get a pair of scissors." Not waiting for his response, Sherlock grabbed a chair from their kitchen table and plopped himself down on it. Shaking his head, John went into the kitchen to grab the scissors, and stopped to ask himself what he was doing. This was Sherlock. And his hair he was cutting. If he screwed anything up- well, Sherlock may forgive him with time, but the mobs of angry fangirls may attempt to kill him. Sherlock, as if he could hear his thoughts, said, "You won't screw up. Now get in here." Sighing, John grabbed the scissors and made a beeline for the room.

John stared at the mass of curls in front of him, confused. He had no idea what to do. Sherlock, sensing his confusion, bit his tongue to prevent the scathing remark that was dying to come out. As much as he trusted John, he knew it would just take one "slip" and then he'd have been, as the Americans say, "royally fucked". So he sat as eventually John picked out a single curl, and experimentally snipped at it. John watched it flutter to the ground. He'd cut it a bit shorter than he intended, but honestly, Sherlock's hair was curly. It wouldn't show. So John slowly gained confidence, and before long, was nearly done. Sherlock looked much better than he had before. Now all that was left to do was Sherlock's fringe. John was just about to cut when Sherlock shifted, and it was too late, he couldn't stop, and he cut the edge of his hair much, much shorter then he'd originally intended to. John winced. Sherlock noticed. He went deathly silent, and the said, in a fierce whisper, "WHAT. DID. YOU. DO." John whimpered slightly and set the scissors down. "I- I'll just go get a cab to take you to the barber's, shall I?" he said, and he nearly ran from the flat.

Two hours later, they were trudging up the steps, Sherlock's hair much shorter than it had been before. John could feel Sherlock seething. John was upset with himself as well. He knew this would happen. But he can't help but think that Sherlock, even as he is slamming the door to his room to sulk, looks strangely attractive with short hair.

A few weeks later, Sherlock is still angry with John. Sherlock has finally had the cast removed, and is able to work for the NSY again. His new haircut draws many stares, as well as a few sniggers. Sherlock ignores it.

It's been a month since "The Incident", as John has begun calling it in his mind, and Sherlock is in a fouler mood than usual. John slowly begins to lose his patience, and eventually yells at a shocked Sherlock. "For God's sake, Sherlock, it's bloody hair! It'll grow back! Now stop sulking and grow up!" John feels himself blush as he mumbles something along the lines of, "Besides, you look good with it." Sherlock looks up, shocked. Slowly, he walks towards John. John feels his breath begin to quicken. He is a straight man, he tells himself. But then Sherlock walks closer, and he can feel his heart rate increase, and all thoughts of being a heterosexual man fly out the window. Sherlock looks, and breathes on John. "Really?" he asks, looking into John's eyes. He dared not hope that the feelings he'd had for the past year towards his best friend and flatmate might be reciprocated. But now, he raises the question, could they? As if to answer his question, John breathed out, "Yes." The he kept talking. "I mean, you'd look good no matter what length your hair was-" Sherlock shut him up by kissing him. Hard. John looks surprised for a moment, and then kisses him back, passionately. Sherlock feels John's arm wrap around him, and a hand begin to twine itself in his hair.

"Maybe short hair isn't such a bad thing after all," he thinks. The he sees a mirror while he's kissing John, and sees how utterly ridiculous he looks. He looks away, silently vowing to himself to grow it back as quickly as possible. That's the farthest his mind strays before he returns to the kiss.


End file.
